


Must Be Purrgatory

by naity_sama



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Aiden Lives (The Witcher), Animal Transformation, Explicit Language, Fluff, Gen, Lambert Swears (The Witcher), Soft Lambert (The Witcher)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 16:55:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naity_sama/pseuds/naity_sama
Summary: Lambert heaved himself up enough to flop onto his back, tossing a jaundiced glare and a firmly upheld finger at his companion. Aiden was blinking at him, nonplussed. They both lay there for a moment, Lambert sprawled out amongst the sparse grass as Aiden pretended to be innocent.
Relationships: Aiden/Lambert (The Witcher)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 75





	Must Be Purrgatory

“Don't.”

“You.”

“Fucking.”

“DARE!,” Lambert's screech bounced off of the nearby cliff in a smattering of furious echoes. The Witcher was running full tilt towards the ledge in a futile effort to stop what was about to happen. Aiden's green-gold eyes only narrowed further, his dark tipped ears flattening closer to his head. Just as Lambert was truly nearing, Aiden gave Lambert's crumpled bedroll one last shove. It fluttered over the cliff side for a single moment before dropping out of sight. Lambert threw himself to the ground and scuttled forward to peer over the edge. His bedraggled bedroll was quickly making its escape in the winding river below. 

“Fucking FUCK, you BASTARD!” Lambert heaved himself up enough to flop onto his back, tossing a jaundiced glare and a firmly upheld finger at his companion. Aiden was blinking at him, nonplussed. They both lay there for a moment, Lambert sprawled out amongst the sparse grass as Aiden pretended to be innocent. Then, Aiden stepped forward, dropping a furry elbow and most of his significant weight across Lambert's chest.

“...Asshole...,” Lambert muttered, one callused hand coming up to rub at the scruff around Aiden's thick neck. As he was, the Cat could no longer purr, but the rumbling chuffs that he could vocalize were a fair equivalent. The fur between Lambert's fingers was plush but course, each multicolored shaft blending into a much more ruddy coat than the average tawny wildcat would sport. Aiden was darker than most mountain lions Lambert had seen, but certainly not dark enough to be called a panther. He was, however, a Cat - through and through.

Aiden's silver Cat head medallion hung around Lambert's neck, next to his own Wolf. The chain had broken when the witch's spell had transformed Aiden from a Cat into a cat. It would have to be repaired. But for now, its unfamiliar weight settled around his neck. More familiar was Aiden's own weight pressed against him. The shape of his body had changed, but the pose and mannerisms stayed true. Even the way he rubbed his big, stupid head along Lambert's chin was old hat. Although now, the ridges of his oversized fangs scraped over Lambert's stubble, and his black lips left streaks of spittle on Lambert's cheek. 

“Gross,” Lambert sneered, shoving at Aiden's skull. In retaliation, Aiden licked him from chin to widow's peak, leaving a trail of dampness and red skin. “Fuck off!” Aiden rolled to one side, a short, almost barking sound emitting from his chest that Lambert correctly interpreted as laughter. 

“Dick.”

A broad paw as wide as Lambert's face patted at his thigh as Aiden kicked his hind feet into the air. No way in hell he was falling for that again. Aiden's soft, squishy mittens were deceptively cute. Underneath their doughy softness, however, were claws longer than Lambert's thumb. Aiden's fluffy underbelly was a pit trap that Lambert had fallen for once (twice), but he would not be tempted to touch again. He had a new set of scars across one arm for his trouble, and he didn't care for a matching set on the other. As it was, the leather of Lambert's trousers were pricked with tiny holes from Aiden's incessant pawing and kneading. 

For a lack of hands, Lambert suffered. Now he lacked a bedroll. Ignoring Aiden's lazy attempts at play, Lambert levered himself upright with a grunt and gathered the thin blanket Aiden had spared. It and his winter cloak would be the only things separating Lambert's sleeping body from the hard ground for a while. Aiden's own bedroll had been shredded between claws and teeth in a fit of feline frustration. At least their packs were still safe. For now.

As Lambert trudged back towards their midday camp just inside the treeline, he glanced back over his shoulder. Aiden was stretched out in the sun, a gentle breeze blowing through his fur as he flexed his paws in pleasure. Two more weeks. Two more weeks until Aiden's curse – and consequently Lambert's punishment for ill-timed words – would end. Lambert wasn't quite sure that he would survive. But, he was enjoying *almost* every minute of it.


End file.
